Seducing Mrs Cullen
by stolen with the night
Summary: Afraid to divorce his wife, Edward decides to hire professional Casanova, Jacob, to seduce Bella into leaving him. But as the two develop feelings for each other, Edward finds himself falling for Bella all over again.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary** _ **: Afraid to divorce his wife, Edward decides to hire professional Casanova, Jacob, to seduce Bella into leaving him. But as the two develop feelings for each other, Edward finds himself falling for Bella all over again.**_

 **Author's Note:** ** _Wow, it's been a while, yeah? I haven't posted or updated anything in about two years. But I was going through some old documents and found this little ditty in a folder labled 'Incomplete Story Ideas' along with about twenty other plot ideas that I started and completely forgot about and thought, hey, why not?_**

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 ** _Seducing Mrs. Cullen_**

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Mahogany hair falling past her shoulder blades in luscious waves, she uses one pale hand to brush the strands that obscure her face behind an unpierced ear. She still hasn't looked up yet, her lashes casting a shadow over her eyes and sweeping across the delicate structure of her cheekbones. She isn't wearing anything particularly attention grabbing but he notices how delicate and becoming she looks in the blue lace that she dons.

Slowly, and with extreme caution she places down the stack of textbooks onto the lab bench, an action that seems unwarranted to him as they were hardly fragile. But the cautious action no longer holds any mystery as he watches her slip forward slightly and bash her hip against the side of her bench- she was quite clumsy and very much aware of it, apparently.

The soft curse she utters surprises him for a moment before he decides it's rather endearing considering her anger made her look like a wet kitten who was ready to try out their new and still soft claws. He doesn't realise that he's smiling, but she does. Her lips turn down and the air about her buzzes with her cute anger and then she's glaring at him with eyes of-

Oh.

Umber eyes. _Beautiful_ umber eyes. Soul stealing eyes. _Heart_ stealing eyes.

Before he can even take a moment to remind himself that he just made himself look like a jerk, he's leaning in close to her.

"Hello, my name is Edward Cullen."

Her glare doesn't let up, but she's far too polite to ignore social customs and with a small nod she speaks. "Bella."

 _Bella._

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All the girls of Forks High School stare and whisper to their friends as he sits at the table that the entirety of the school populace know as the 'Cullen table.' Their colourless eyes track his face, the subtle lines of his arms in the blue sweater he wears and the slim muscles beneath his dark slacks, but not her, not Bella. Instead, she sits surrounded by boys but only paying attention to her quiet friend, Angela.

Something dark and uncomfortable churns low in his stomach- not once has she glanced his way, when all other girls have yet to take their eyes from him and he is very new to jealousy. New to everything since the arrival of Bella Swan.

Edward tries to look away but only manages to twist his neck slightly to the left of her before he is quickly drawn back by the sound of her laughter. He isn't being very subtle, obviously, as his brother juts a brawny arm into his side. Irritated at having to look away, Edward turns a frown upon his older brother.

Emmet, looking far too pleased with himself, simply slumps back into his chair. His large form makes the white, plastic chair of the cafeteria look like something out of a barbie doll house- far too small for any human being.

Still frowning, he's tempted to ask why Emmet felt the need to assault him but quickly decides he'd much rather stare pathetically at Bella than interact with his ape of a brother. His siblings, having joined the table at some point- more than likely while he was focusing on Bella's laugh- all snickered in delight.

"Well," came the bell-like tones of his sister, Alice, "At least we can be sure he's not gay now."

Edward wants to turn and growl, to defend himself in this almost life-long argument about his sexuality, but is frozen still when he notices that Bella was now staring at him. Umber eyes look into green and two faces catch fire.

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Biology is his favourite class- the material his boring and repetitive, he knows it all already thanks to his father the doctor, the teacher is too stoic yet intrusive but biology is Edward's favourite class because for forty-five minutes, three times a week, he sits next to Bella and simply talks to her.

Sometimes they speak of inconsequential things, like the weather- he still cringes out of habit when he thinks of his awkward conversation starter- or their classes. But there are times when she'll lean into him and whisper about her dreams for the future or he'll bend low and talk about his insecurities and when they pull apart, it feels like they've left a little piece of themselves with the other.

He talks about his father and his adopted father, Carlisle and how he wishes that he'd spent less time wanting to be like the first and more like the second and more loving parent. She sits there quiet and respectful when he tells her about his late mother- how she'd begged Carlisle to take him in. Bella offers him no sympathies or condolences, but her slim hand settled above his own is comforting.

She speaks about her need for independence- the result of an erratic mother. Her fears and worries- she is terrified of leaving her father the way her mother did and what it might result in. She lets slip how often she feels caged and spinning in every direction yet not going anywhere.

They talk for forty-five minutes, three days a week.

They talk and…

What's happening to him?

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The day of the crash he was where he always was on school mornings- standing across the parking lot and staring at Bella Swan. She's pretty in the snow, with ice crystals gleaming in her hair and her nose pink from the cold. Everything about her makes him want to wrap her up tight and warm. There are faint traces of shadows under her eyes and he wonders what kept her up the night before. Homework? Family troubles? Nightmares? Did she dream of him, think about him as much as he thought about her?

She still hadn't looked up, her eyes glued firmly to the slick ground beneath her, ready to catch herself before she could slip. Her eyes were cast down and in both ears there sat two earbuds, drowning out the sound of oncoming death.

But Edward could see it and he could hear it. The screech of tires against ice and with an almost dull sense of panic, he noticed the van was making it's way towards Bella.

 _Not her._

His shoes slipped against the ice beneath him as he pushed off the side of his car.

 _Not her._

His heart was beating crazily in his ears and he caught the moment she noticed something was wrong. Bella looked up, slowly, as if not sure if she wanted to know the reason for the strange thrill she felt in the air. Her face contorted in confusion when she spotted him vaulting towards her.

 _Move, please move. You can't…we've only just…we haven't…I need…I just found you…you can't…_

His hand wrapped around her waist and before he could really think about it, he was throwing her across the small lane with strength he didn't know he possessed and shielding her using his own body. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that the dull smack he'd just heard was Bella's skull hitting the side walk.

But panic had him holding her close even as the van sailed past them and into Bella's truck. He should have checked the driver, made them the first priority and yet he found his hands running over Bella instead. He slowly weaved his fingers through her hair- soft and strawberry scented- prodding her scalp and searching for injuries.

Up until that point he hadn't noticed that her eyes had been closed, but he did when her lashes shivered and her eyes blinked open slowly. Perfect umber once more peered into green and all the air in his lungs slipped away.

"You saved me. You risked your life to _save me,"_ she breathed in wonderment.

Oh.

Something was in her eyes, something that wasn't there before and whatever it was, it held him in place and made him want to melt into rays of light and provide life to all living things- so they too could have the chance to feel this enchanting, empowering feeling in the centre of his chest. The world shattered and remade itself around him in one moment.

 _Oh._

 _So this is…_

Nothing like a car crash to make a boy realise he's in love.

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The years flash by in a series of perfectly soft memories, each moment filled with the warmth and sweetness of stumbling along the path of love – the first for each of them. And there's no one else, there never will be. Not for him and not for her. They have their moments, amongst the constant barrages of 'it's just puppy love, it will never last' and 'they're too different'. They fought about everything and anything and soothed each other's wounds with sweet kisses and apologies. They learnt from each other – they made each other better, _want_ to be better.

So to no one's surprise, the very day after graduating from Fork's High School, one Edward Cullen, was found down on one knee with a pathetically hopeful expression on his face and a stunning ring in his hands. What was surprising, however, was the subsequent rejection.

"Bella, why?"

"Did you know, one in two marriages end in divorce, Edward? If I marry you, one day you'll wish you'd never produced a ring and that will be the day you stop loving me."

He chuckles, shaking his head with all the naivety of a child, "Oh Bella, I could never stop loving you." Sincere words from a foolish boy.

He misses her smile completely, the smile of the resigned, the jaded and the knowing.

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"Promise me it's forever, Edward. Swear to me that I haven't just agreed to unavoidable heartbreak."

"What can I do to prove to you that I want you for all of 'forever'?"

"Spend the next eighty years in love with me and I'll be convinced for what's left of 'eternity'"

He chuckles, that bright, beautiful, boyish grin of his – the one she has become addicted to. "Deal."

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They're married in the fall, though you could hardly tell with the woods being entirely in bloom. Flowers in all pastel shades dotted the lush foliage of lining shrubs and tall, scented trees. Candles that lined the aisles provided soft lighting and cast the landscape in a dreamy glow.

And when the music began, Edward watched as his heart and future stumbled towards him in swathes of white lace – and he wondered to himself, how could he _not_ love this woman? And he swore upon the stars above, so clear in the dark sky that he would never forget this feeling, the triumph, the pounding in his chest, the warmth, the dizzying breathlessness, the glow in her umber eyes – he wouldn't forget a single thing.

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But the world makes liars of us all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

 _Who knows, maybe every story will get an update this year? Anyway, I'm doing really well, the only down side is I don't ever get to write anymore, which is terrible as I used to enjoy it very much. I also hope everyone of my readers haven't thought that I have abandoned them or my stories. Please enjoy!_

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 ** _10 Years After Happily Ever After_**

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He doesn't know how it happened, doesn't know when. All he knows is that it lacks feeling now – it's dull, repetitive and indifferent. Nothing has changed; she's still the perfect wife, cooking, cleaning, everything organised and ready for him. Bella creates dishes of perfection, beautiful in every way, they look like they belong on the cover of a home living magazine. She's had years to perfect her art, having supported him through-out college and medical school and her eventually leaving behind her own education in favour of the house-wife lifestyle.

He's grateful. He's grateful. He really is…. he tries to remember that as he looks at her from across the table.

She looks at him, unchanged through the years. She still looks like the eighteen year old that he proposed to…so why? The atmosphere is stilted between them, the conversation non-existent but her hand remains wrapped around his, as it has been since they were both seventeen; only now it feels less like a divine gift and more like penance, a shackle.

Before he even finishes the thought, his hand his slowly twisting from her once comforting grip. She doesn't fight the movement, instead she watches it go with a sad sort of smile. He's hurt her, she's never been able to hide her emotions.

There's a soft intake of air, she's building herself up for something. Something monumental.

She looks up at him through thick, dark lashes. "Do you still love me?"

 _No. I don't know how, I don't know when, but, no._

And yet, her pain still causes him pain and her tears still cause something to seize in his heart so his lips move without his consent, "Of course, I still love you."

She doesn't look like she believes him, her shoulders remain hunched. But there's a hopeful tilt to her lips and her eyes don't look quite so sad anymore. Slowly, her hand makes its way atop his again and though he wants to, he doesn't move.

" _Coward,"_ something young hisses inside him. The voice is familiar and enough to spark up irritation in him. This isn't his fault. It isn't. They've changed, Bella and himself. Edward used to look at her and find the joy in eternity in her eyes, now, he looks into them and finds himself afraid and full of dread at the mere thought of their bleak marriage and the endless years ahead of him. They've grown up – grown up and grown apart.

Something happened. He still didn't know what, or when, all he knows is when he looks at his wife, he can't remember why it is he felt he loved her. It's cruel, it's entirely cruel and he knows that, but it's true and he just can't stand feeling like the villain whenever he looks at her. All the guilt, all the toxic guilt builds up and tears into him when she looks up at him, eyes never accusing but nearly resigned and he can't help but think, _'why do you stay? Surely, surely, you must know, why do you stay? Why do you make me the bad guy?'_

 _Let's get a divorce._ He wants to say. But he doesn't, because despite everything, despite all the things Bella no longer makes him feel, there's always been one thing that she has never stopped making him feel; immeasurably guilty.

It has to be her, Bella has to leave him because his conscious won't allow for him to destroy her like that. But Bella won't, because somewhere along the line, he'd strangely become her everything and it was paralysing. Like the hand around his own, he too felt it at his throat.

He needs to leave – to get away from her.

The screech of his chair moving against the hardwood of their floor doesn't slice through the atmosphere as he rips his hand from underneath hers as gently as he can manage, if anything, the sound only adds to it. He feels her eyes on his back as he gathers his belongings, he's spouting excuses to her, he doesn't even know what he's telling her, but before he knows it, he's out the door and practically panting for air.

There's no other woman, he's not cheating or even aiming to cheat. He shouldn't feel this guilty, he hasn't done anything wrong. She has no right to look at him the way she does, like she knows what he's thinking and expected it. Expects him to be the bad guy and destroy their marriage but it wasn't him.

Something is knocking against his mind and conscious, something loud and sad and desperate and it takes Edward the longest of moments to realise that it isn't in his head. In a haze he turns his head to look to his left, from where he was still leaning against the door of his prison – a far cry from their perfect little vision of a cottage they had once dreamed of having – and there he spots a young woman, beautiful if not for the dark streams of mascara running down her face, screeching and banging ferociously on the next door neighbour's door.

"Jacob! Let me in! _Jacob!_ Fuck!" The woman lets out an otherworldy shriek as crumbles against the door, sliding down until she's huddled on the cold steps, sobbing and making feeble attempts to punch at the wood.

It's not much, but it makes him feel slightly better that there was someone else in the world who seemed just as trapped as he did. He feels he can breathe again, the more distance he puts between that door – Bella – and himself. It makes it easier to think, to walk with confidence; only one thing breaks his stride.

" _I left my husband for you, you fucking bastard! I love you, god, please, Jacob, I divorced him! I left everything for you!"_ The fire is back, and the woman is once more on her feet and fighting her unmovable foe.

It's enough to make him pause, enough to have all thoughts come to some truly dark conclusion, this muddled, not truly thought out idea. Vague but with enough shape to have him realise…maybe. Terrible. Truly terrible. But –

But –

That hand, that fucking delicate, warm, little hand on his own, like a vice cutting into his skin and growing like unbreakable chains around his wrist and those eyes with that damnable look in them, cutting him like nothing else with such surgical precision – it's enough to make him feel like going insane at the thought of spending the rest of his life like that, with her.

So he slows, just enough to look back and think to himself, _Jacob._

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" _F_ uuck," comes the whining pitch of Mike Newton, male nurse – and while, yes, they've become more common, it's still something of a small joke to have male nurses on staff and Edward can't decide if it's the lingering vestiges of sexism in the system or the competitive streak of alpha medical practitioners trying to keep lines clear.

Mike slumps into his chair and it's only after Edward looks up that he realises Mike may for once have a justifiable reason to whine. There's a purple bloom running across the underside of his jaw where Mike is holding an ice pack to it. Nothing looks broken, but the swelling and colour gives it away as a fresh wound.

Edward gestures to his own jaw line, "what happened?"

Mike rolls his eyes heavenward and sighs, low and deep. "Same thing that always seems to happen this time of the week. Same guy too. You would think he would learn to stop going after married women. Guy has some serious mommy issues."

"Oh?" Edward has never really broken himself of the habit of being slightly too invasive.

Mike jerks his head in a clear 'look over there' gesture. Edward lets his eyes track the movement then the direction where they finally fall on a man that could barely be seen from the angle Edward was sitting. For all that his family had made fun of him during his school days – before Bella – Edward had truly never been attracted to another male in his life. However, he'd be a fool not to see why others would consider this man attractive.

He sat carelessly in the standard, plastic waiting room chair, legs crossed at the ankle and outstretched. He was young, younger than Edward by a good half decade at least, with unblemished russet skin and a full head of dark hair. It was obvious he had an effect on the woman around him as their eyes kept darting back to him, but he ignored them all, eyes narrowed and drilling into the floor.

"Damn brat, wish I was nearly as lucky at his age, hell, even now." Mike throws his ice pack on the table between them, "He's in here every week or two after being jumped by the jealous husbands of whoever the pick of the week is. And if I'm lucky, he'll take a swipe back and both of them will end up in the same waiting room brawling with each other. Had to separate the two of them. Kid is luck he hasn't been murdered yet – all the relationships he's ruined."

Edward stills, the apple in his hand untouched and the lunch Bella had made for him even more so. "Who's attending to him?"

Mike shrugs, "He's a sit and wait, whoever gets to him first."

Edward is up before he can even think about it, down the hallway, behind the reception desk and clamping a hand down on the shoulder of Lauren, the front desk worker. "The sit and wait," he ignores her stupefied expression, he knows he looks slightly unhinged, he feels unhinged, this is stupid, so entirely stupid, "pull up his chart."

There's a serious of clicks as she navigates their system before black lettering unfolds across the screen.

 _ **Jacob E. Black**_

"I'll take him," he tells Lauren, already moving away and towards the young man who was now looking up and quirking a brow at him – what did his face look like? Could this Jacob see? See the things Bella saw? That he was a terrible husband, that he was about to do something so truly terrible just to get a moments peace away from the grave-like atmosphere of his house, haunted by his ghost of a wife?

"Jacob Black?" Edward sweeps a hand out to herd him into his office, "please, come in."

The boy goes tense, eyeing Edward peculiarly but moving slowly into the office with the air of someone going to the hangman's noose. Behind him, Edward closes the door, locking it immediately. At the small click, Jacob twitches and grinds his teeth, eyes darting to the door knob and back to Edward, who stands in the way.

"Look man, I don't know what you've heard or what she told you," Jacob begins with the low tones of the truly irritated. "But I haven't done anything to your wife."

"No," Edward finds himself saying, allowing the door behind him to keep him upright as the world slowly spins around him. "No, you haven't but I would like you to."


End file.
